


Sunken

by Summertime_Poet



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: I just liked it too much not to share it with you y'know?, I think I actually wrote this inspired by the song, M/M, also featuring some Death Valley lyrics, basically this is a ficlet I wrote on my cell phone last summer, it might not be my best work ever but I edited it a bit before uploading it, so yeah- please enjoy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3679368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summertime_Poet/pseuds/Summertime_Poet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things you wouldn't have believed to be possible if someone had told you about them before happen. It's all about how we deal with the consequences that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunken

It was quarter to twelve when Pete, not hungry or anything, just bored, dropped down on the couch and lazily switched on the TV.

It was only minutes later that the news speaker would say "... by what is known so far, apparently no survivors" in relation to the only an hour ago capsized Costa Gonzales and Pete's mouth would fall open, then close and open again several times in attempt to _understand_ , before his mouth closed for a last time, jaw clenched tightly, reflecting the bitter irony Pete always, even if only subtly recently, felt when thinking about life.

The fact that he wasn't hungry anymore was as much of a fact as that he wouldn't cry.

*

The phone rang, constantly, all afternoon, but he didn't want to pick it up because he knew whom it would be- family, friends, anyone who had known about the two of them. He didn't need their words of comfort nor _anything_ else- he wanted to be all alone and the only person who he would have accepted to be near him, to talk him into believing everything was alright, to hold him and sing to him until he fell asleep, wasn't there.

Not anymore.

*

He thought about ripping out the internal phone and all of the phone cables in addition to it, but he didn't because deep down, he knew it was irrational and Patrick wouldn't want him to act like this.

But then again, what did he really know. He didn't want to know anything right now.

It took him five days to turn on his cell phone again.

*

Of course, the amount of calls he had gotten (and all of them purposefully missed) even exceeded the amount of those he used to get around the time he had bought his first cell phone. Same went for the text messages he had received.

*

In a state of totally not caring about anything Pete ended up staring on the screen, rather through it though, not reading any of the tiny words, the beginning of each of the single messages people had written him.

Mind blank and feeling as numb as he had all the time for the past couple of days, even in his sleep, he scrolled down, and down, and down.

Until he reached the bottom of his inbox.

*

"Babe, I know I tell you this everyday but... just know that I love you more than anything. Always <3"

Date clearly stating THAT day (as though he'd ever be able to forget it again); 5pm.

*

Pete's mouth didn't fall open this time. He didn't stammer incomprehensible words of confusion and disbelief nor did he almost fall down the stairs when he hurried to pull a random pair of boots over his feet. He didn't care to take another five seconds to grab a jacket-  that was of minor importance right now.

The person who had sent him the said message would probably scold him under normal conditions for being so careless when it came to himself, risking catching a cold or worse by leaving their house without a warm jacket and a scarf during winter or early spring.

*

Pete didn't even bother considering taking his car, his hands were shaking too much for him to be able to drive further than past the fence anyway. He hurried, then ran, and finally hurriedly ran, as though chased by wild wolves, down the to the city streets to the travel agency and bought the first ticket headed towards the place that the other had mentioned in the second and longer one of his text messages he had sent him- before his cell phone's battery had died.

*

Of course it had had to die, and of course his aunt didn't have a car nor much money. Of course the authorities hadn't managed to help all of those who had been able to save themselves yet almost a week ago by now and most likely they had done a just as good job at informing the families.

(Or their call had been among those Pete had missed; he didn't care though, not right now and not yet. Not until he would have reached his destination.)

*

"Death Valley. End station."

The bus driver's voice rustling through the speakers that got other passengers to startle and woke them up from unknown dreams didn't manage to do any of those things to Pete, who hadn't slept for good eighteen hours straight.

He didn't care, really not.

Not yet.

*

He was a mess, life was a mess, his feet as he stumbled over the asphalt and almost fell several times in the process were a mess- this _all_ was one giant mess.

Cursing, his legs being in his own way all the time and tears closer than ever before for no apparent reason he fought his way forward, towards the house he knew to hold the answers he needed to know, whether he wanted to or not.

He prayed he wanted to.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he ran.

*

He saw him only moments later, next to an elderly woman Pete instantly assumed was his aunt mentioned in the text message. The one he had read... had it really been only a little more than eighteen hours? ago. Pete didn't know, he didn't care.

*

Sobbing, he fell against the other, slightly smaller man, burying his head in his shoulder, not daring to breathe in his scent yet, not daring to believe this was real. He didn't know how he had given up so early; he just never wanted to give up, to let go, _ever_ again.

"Patrick"

*

Words stayed unsaid. For the moment; and it didn't matter.

For now, there was only one thought; it was as though it was part of a conversation that no-one else but the two of them were able to hear or take part in.

Patrick looked deeply into Pete eyes as the other man started to shiver and finally allowed the tears to stream down his face, along the traces of exhaustion and woe and worry that had formed on it recently, within an unbelievably short period of time.

 

_It's okay._

*

The night they returned home, the next day, was the first Pete finally could sleep again, allowing hazy dreams to lull his mind and take over his body just as easily.

Next to him lay the man he loved more than anything in the world, one of his arms curled around Pete as though he was fragile and needed to be protected. As though he had been missed to death.

Pete felt as though there needed to be a song written about how important this all was to him, to be able to wake up and find Patrick lying next to him, often still asleep, sometimes awake for hours already but not moving in order not to wake Pete up just yet, a loving smile on his face.

Pete wouldn't trade any of this, ever, not for the world.

He... he would...

Eventually, he fell asleep, cuddled against Patrick, his head hidden in his lover's neck, black hair brushing raspberry-golden hair.

Chest against chest, breathing in tandem.

*

_We are alive._

 

*

the end

***


End file.
